


we built a dynasty heaven couldn't shake

by laurelsalexis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelsalexis/pseuds/laurelsalexis
Summary: When Robb comes to understand the meaning of the world prince and that he will, one day, become king, it seems his whole world changes.





	1. june, 2018

**Author's Note:**

> Modern royalty because I am a slut for that shit. 
> 
> This is a world where Westeros + Essos basically exists in addition to the modern world.

Princess Myrcella Baratheon sits in her room, decorated with the red and gold of house Lannister, only small decorations of the stag from the house of her father. Not that she’s ever had much say in the matter with her mother constantly changing all of the rooms of her children to her liking. Sometimes she thinks to tell her mother to leave her father if she is so unhappy, rather than filling voids in room decorations and helicopter parenting, but she never can quite get the words out.

She rarely gets any words out around Cersei Lannister.

That day is no different as she sits properly in a chair, versus the floor where she had been prior. Her long red dress falls around her as her mother stands behind her, brushing through her hair, making it so her curls sit just right.

Myrcella does not quite understand the need for her to be so perfect if she is simply going to be inside all day, rather than exploring as she enjoys doing. After her mother’s discovery of her brief relationship with Trystane Martell she’s been on lockdown, more often than not. Sometimes she will allow her to leave with Joffrey keeping a careful eye on her, them both accompanied by the Hound. She would much rather stay home.

Joffrey has a cruel streak her mother pretends not to see. Her entire childhood and teenage years were devoted to protecting Tommen and making it so there was not too much time alone with Joffrey. He never keeps his hands to himself and he is all too comfortable in doing things no brother should. The one time she makes attempt to speak of it her father is too drunk to care and her mother grabs her by the arm to silence her.

It’s only ever her grandfather that can keep Joffrey in line, but he can hardly be around all of the time.

She can only wait until she no longer has be near him. If only she could make it the same for Tommen. He angers Joffrey’s temper by doing the simplest of things.

“Don’t slouch.” Cersei scolds as she straightens her up.

Deep down Myrcella knows her mother does love her, very much, and only has some trouble loving all three of her children equally at the same time. She has a benefit of being the only daughter, the only princess, the one that will marry another prince.

Prince Robb Stark, to be exact, both of them will be king and queen upon the passing of King Ned. Something that is not expected for a long time to come.

It’s that future that makes her mother even more critical upon her.

Her thoughts of her mother are replaced with thoughts of the news as it flashes across the screen. At first, she does not pay attention, but it is the image of an old photo of Prince Robb, along with his name, flashing across the screen that causes her to ignore her thoughts and the act of her hair being brushed with more force.

“Turn that off.” Cersei orders.

“No.” Myrcella ignores her mother and even manages to get up and walk closer to the screen, turning the volume up on the television.

“In an official statement it is confirmed that Prince Robb was among the many injured in the training exercise incident. The location has not been disclosed to the public but our sources tell us it is located in the Vale of Arryn. The Vale of Arryn is the location of the ancestral home of Jon Arryn, the man who fostered King Ned and is married to the younger sister of Queen Catelyn. At this moment the status of Prince Robb is unknown. We will keep you updated on all news.”

Myrcella stands as the news station runs through the history of the Stark dynasty with a blank expression on her face. She swallows, to keep any other feelings at bay, and to ignore the outburst all too ready to come from her mouth if her mother dares to say the wrong thing.

“If he dies you will not need to marry him.”

“Mother.” Myrcella scolds harsher than she ever has before, always quite good at keeping her thoughts to herself. “The Starks have never been anything but kind to us.”

Cersei keeps the even look upon her face as she moves to where she is standing in front of her daughter. She runs the backs of her fingers along her cheek, before running her hand against her smoothed out golden curls. “You are a lion, my sweet. A wolf will devour you, use you, until there is nothing left. Even the she wolves are no different. Lyanna,” the disgust of her name is clear, “using a man until she was done. Left her poor son without a mother.”

“She died.” Myrcella corrects her mother.

“Nevertheless, Jon is a wolf without a mother or a father. I would never allow such a child near my own children.”

Myrcella frowns but does not feel the need to . “Can I go get something to eat?”

“An apple.” She approves. “In case he does survive we can have you looking anything other than perfection.”

She forces a smile on her face before she goes to her room, rather than the kitchen. In truth, she is not hungry, nor can she eat in such a time. She uses her phone to read through any information that is coming through and prays to the Gods that he does survive.

Her heart could not handle anything else.

* * *

 

Jon stands at the foot of the hospital bed Robb is lying on, staring at his brother. Never has he seen him in such a condition and it unnerves him. Something about Robb has always seemed invincible. As if out of all of them he was going to survive without anything happening to him. It reminds him of having to see Bran lying in the bed of his own after his fall.

The Starks endure.

Sansa took Catelyn to get something to eat since she’s been in the room for the past three days without daring to move from the side of her eldest son. It leaves him the ability to be there alone. His relationship with Catelyn is not poor, but it is not great either. Somewhere in the middle.

“You have to wake up.” Jon eventually says, moving so he’s at Robb’s side. He puts his hand around Robb’s, careful to not mess with the IV, careful to not cause him to move at all. There’s too much going on for him to even see the boy he grew up with. From wires to tubes to bandages that are growing colored with the injuries he is sporting.

There is no other option other than Robb has to wake up.

He remembers when they were teenagers and learned the truth of the history of their family. It is no secret that his brother is not actually his brother. It doesn’t matter when they grow up doing everything together. He is the son of Princess Lyanna, someone killed near immediately after his birth. Ned has always been his father regardless of who actually is.  

It’s only from those who work in Winterfell that tell the tale of Lyanna running off and winding up in a tale of scandal. Always the rebellious type and they both can only imagine what Arya will be like when she grows older. It sends the kingdoms into something of a tense relationship that is only saved when Rhaegar Targaryen is killed and Robert Baratheon takes his seat.

The events are only something he hears about through stories and can read accounts of what happened, and never something he can wrap his mind around. He sees the way the tales unnerve Robb and cause him to worry about what will happen to him, to their siblings, to his parents.

They never really talk about Robb’s decision to join the army. Rather it is something that happens right around the time Jon joins the Nights Watch. It is not a career that lasts as long as Robb’s in the Army does but it does give him the purpose he’d been searching for his entire life.

Now he’s taken up the work in the name of his late mother.

Jon wants to pretend he would have talked Robb out of it, he wouldn’t have. He would have joined him and they would both be lying in the bed. That would not do any good.

All he knows is the Starks cannot handle anymore tragedy and if their Crown Prince dies the whole country will be in a state of mourning like they were twenty years ago.

“He’ll wake up.” Daenerys offers, quietly, resting her chin on his shoulder as she stands behind him, arms wrapping around him.

“You don’t know that.”

“Bran did.”

Jon doesn’t reply as he knows she is right. Bran did wake up and all was fine. He cannot walk and uses a wheelchair to get around but he is still alive. That is important. He knows that. Jon leans back against Daenerys slightly, happy to have her there, even if he doesn’t look it. Rather he just stares at the monitor and the way Robb’s chest rises and falls with the machine.

He looks older there. The red curls on his head muddied and the beard on his face thicker and darker than when he last saw him. Everything is different.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?”

Daenerys doesn’t say anything for a long while. “I don’t know.”

* * *

 

The pain is unlike anything Robb’s ever experienced before. It’s also the first thing he notices when he opens his eyes, blinking over and over to try and get a clear image of what is before, doing his best to not panic at the tube in his throat. It doesn’t work when he starts choking and his mother is right there to hold his hand before the nurse comes in.

When it is out his throat burns and he’s all too tired to do anything but lay there. He feels weak. Exhaustion and pain make him up and as he squeezes his mother’s hand, and she does her best not to cry, he knows it’s not good.

Robb doesn’t have a clear picture of what happened other than the memory of passing out thinking he was about to die.

He knows from a young age he is not an ordinary child. He is taught to wave at the masses of people that are a fixture in his life from his earliest memories. There is no true sense of privacy and the gates of Winterfell have always been welcoming to many, not just them.

When he comes to understand the meaning of the world __prince__ and that he will, one day, become __king__ , another word he understands the meaning of, it seems his whole world changes. Something that carves out just the personality he finds himself with. Ever the mischievous boy, with a temper that is all Stark, but the protection of an older brother mixed with the understanding that duty is something that always comes first.

The clearest memory he has is when Arya was nothing more than a mere baby in his mother’s arms. She’d been born a few months prior before she’s baptized, the whole family walking out. He holds onto both Jon and Sansa as they walk, the crowds of people and reporters flashing the camera lights at them. He looks back briefly to see both his parents smiling, even as Arya lets out a loud cry. She’s never been interested in being a princess, even from her birth.

The situation happens a year later when Bran is born and five years after that when Rickon is born. He understands even better that he is the Crown Prince. The cameras and world watch him with a fascination as his parents both do their best to teach him how to behave.

“You are to lead by example, son.” Ned tells him once, when he’s seven, hand clasped on his shoulder, crouched down so he’s on his level. “They will follow everything you do.”

He remembers thinking how unfair that was. To be put on pedestal and to be thrown into a life he did not desire. But when his mother takes him with her when she goes on her public engagements and he sees the way things are for some people he doesn’t think to complain of it again.

All he wants is to be the best he can be.

When he is a teenager the whispers around him start to bother him. Not because of what they say but what they don’t say. The whispers range from Theon Greyjoy to Jeyne Poole and everyone he ever speaks to between the two of them. They whisper about Jon, once, and when the King catches wind of it he tells them to never speak of it again. He asks his mother of it once and she gives no answer of her own. Rather she tells him to go look after his siblings.

Even if it means that he is going to wed Myrcella Baratheon without having a choice in the matter.

When it comes to uniting the Kingdoms and keeping his own family safe there is nothing he will not do. It is not something that is explicitly told to him, rather it is something he understands through implications. He overhears a few hushed conversations between his parents and hears the way his father resigns to the match. It gives Robert the chance to have a son as a king and a daughter as a queen.

As a teenager it is not something he truly understands and when he tries to tell Theon about it nothing makes any sense either. They both know the truth of the way their worlds work. He was always going to marry someone and expect to have a family, to carry on the line, as one day Theon will return to Pyke to live out his own destiny as his father’s only living son.

They don’t talk about it. They enjoy their few months.

When it’s all over the memories remain and a year later when he marries some approved girl by his father he pretends not to care.

Or notice.

By the time his eighteen birthday rolls around he itches to break free. He’s never been one that is all that interested in schooling. Rather, he is interested in everything else but. He likes to do things and burn off energy. He doesn’t care much about sitting in some classroom while someone teaches him about things he will never use. Perhaps that is not a good trait for him to have if he is one day going to be king, but he hardly cares. He completed what he needed to.

He doesn’t tell either his mother or father about joining the army until he’s already done it. His mother is horrified and his father has the silent reaction that terrifies Robb to his very core.

Much to his surprise, neither of them actually stop him.

The first year gives him time to just be. It ends up getting rid of the rebellion in him. No where he can go and no where he chooses to go. He is treated like everyone else and it’s something he is grateful for.

He blends in for a while and even does an interview on the whole thing. Mostly because his mother scheduled it for him and he is not about about to deny his mother.

His first injury is to his shoulder and hurts worse than anything he could imagine. He falls ill with an infection and that lands him in the hospital for far too long. He is cleared again and is pleased.

But as he lays there, with far more severe injuries, he knows that his military career is over. He can barely move and his mother will not let go of his hand. He can see the royal guard standing outside of the room and he doesn’t have to turn on the television or look at a newspaper to know none of this is a secret.

It takes another few days before he is actually up and about. The nurse helping him out of bed even though his leg is injured, not broken, but definitely strained.

“You can do this, Your Highness.”

Robb glares at her, not wanting this to be any different than it already is. “Robb.”

“ _ _Robb__.” She corrects, being the one he is meant to hold onto, as he tries to stand.

It hurts, more than he thought, but he’s alive. He’s stiff and bruised over what feels like most of his body. The doctor broke the news that morning that he needed another surgery. Something he doesn’t want and even tried to refuse, but that hardly mattered. Instead, he is told to walk around a bit before the surgery in three days time. After that, if his recovery goes according to plan, he can finally leave the Vale.

He breathes through the pain as he actually makes it through the doorway. The nurse is a few steps behind him and the guard is a few steps behind her. There are not a terrible amount of people on the floor but a few. He did not want to make it so everyone has to move simply because he was injured somewhere entirely inconvenient. If a picture of him ends up on the internet then so be it. He should care more, he knows that. The image the public has of him will mean everything going forth, and given Myrcella’s family is not well liked within the North and Riverlands it is something they will work against from the moment their engagement is announced, it is even more important he seems well liked in the eyes of the people.

It doesn’t matter as he leans against the railing and feels as if he is a ninety year old man with how slow he walks. All he desires is to sit down and never get up again.

 “Are you supposed to be walking around?” Jon’s voice rings through the hallway.

“Are you supposed to brood all the time?” Robb asks as he grabs on Jon’s arm when he is near enough. He needs the support and he’d rather use him than the nurse.

“Yes.” He says it seriously, but cracks a barely there hint of a smile as he let’s Robb use him for support. “Here.” He hands Robb a new phone. “I’m tired of being your personal secretary.”

“But you look pretty in a skirt.”

“That was __once__ ,” Jon whispers, looking around to see if anyone can hear, “on a dare.”

“You liked it.” Robb cannot help himself from laughing, even though it hurts. He stops, bracing himself against the wall, and takes a few breaths as he looks at his brother. “How mad is everyone?”

“They are just glad you’re alive.”

“You’re lying.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Robb frowns and does his best not to worry about it. It does not work. “That’s not an answer.”

“Father is on that trip with King Robert and Queen Cersei. Won’t be back until next month.” Jon explains with a shrug of his shoulders, crossing his arms before him as he looks at Robb.

“My mum told me. He took Arya and Sansa with him.” He doesn’t know if he’s grateful for that or if they’ll both kill him once he does see them. “Aren’t you supposed to be opening the foundation?”

“It’s tomorrow afternoon. I am leaving tonight.”

“Get gravely injured and you won’t have to do those things.” Robb tries to joke but it comes out all too flat.

“Mm.”

“Oh, lighten up, Jon.” He winces and tries to block out the rush of burning pain to his shoulder as she stands up straight.

“Come on,” Jon offers himself to be Robb’s support, “you need to rest before you kill yourself in a hospital hallway.”

Robb only leans on Jon for a few steps, mostly because he is too proud to actually do anything like let him help for the full walk back to his room. By the time he does make it to the bed his entire chest and abdomen feel like they are burning. The nurse helps him so that he is back in the bed, properly, and he has the blanket pulled up as he leans back against the pillow. He’ll be in there for a while longer and already hates it.

Jon sits in the chair as he looks over at Robb. “Myrcella called.”

“Oh.” Probably not the right answer and the guilty look on his face has to be crystal clear. Never has he been very good at lying and making it seem as if he’s not getting into all kinds of trouble. “How is she?”

“How long have you been seeing her?”

“I haven’t.”

Jon stares at him, __glares__ , actually.

“We’ve been exchanging letters,” he relents, “but I haven’t seen her since the time they came North.”

“Letters?”

“So no one knew.” It was the only way they could speak without it seeming too obvious. In the military he was like everyone else and yet, he did not want to take the risk. To be married to her was something he accepted years prior, but he at least wanted to know her first. He feels like he does, now. Somewhat. Her thoughts and feelings. He keeps all of the letters to read and made certain they were with the stuff one of the guards collected after his injury. It feels silly as he speaks to Jon about it, as if he is doing something he should not.

“I told you about Daenerys.”

“You knew about Theon.” Robb shrugs, trying to ignore that he definitely hurt Jon’s feelings by keeping him in the dark.

“That doesn’t count.” Jon dismisses. “Plus, I nearly caught you.”

“It does.” Robb lays back down. “ _ _Nearly__ , but you didn’t.”

“Call her.” Robb doesn’t reply and Jon shakes his head.  “Call her.” He repeats as he walks over to him. “She’s worried. Your mother will be here in an hour.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Jon says before he musses with his Robb’s hair before leaving the room.

Deep down he knows that he should call Myrcella. He doesn’t. Instead he spends the night with his mother watching some bad television and reading through the various articles on him. Most of them cause him to roll his eyes and the comments on them are no better. It is really a poor idea to read the comments on anything.

He thinks about calling her again before he goes into surgery. Jon put her number in his phone for the sole purpose of calling her and he still cannot do it. Instead he allows them to take him to surgery and tells his mother he will be fine. When he wakes up again he barely knows his own name, let alone anything else going on, and his mind only focuses on the fact that the doctor comes back in to tell him he does not need another surgery.

That’s the new he wants to hear.

His mother and Jon are really the only people he sees for the better part of the week. Mostly because he doesn’t want to see anyone else and his sisters are out of the country to begin with. His desire to be alone extends even after he is cleared for discharge. He is still in a lot of pain and will need a good month to fully recover but he really doesn’t want to do that in Winterfell.

If only his mother actually takes that news well.

She doesn’t.

“Robb, are you certain?” She asks as she hovers over him. “You would be far more comfortable at home.”

“I want the privacy.” He tells her, giving her a pleading look.

“You can have that at home.”

“Mum, please.” He pouts at her then, the final step to get her to cave. “Just for a few weeks.”

“If you need anything you come home.” The words are filled with hesitation but she does not take them back. Rather she grabs her purse as she stands, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I should go see Lysa before going North. Be safe.”

“I will.” He kisses her on the cheek in return. “I’ll call you.”

Robb signs the discharge papers a few minutes before Jon actually shows up. He’s grateful for their invite to Dragonstone. They’re unofficially officially together. Whatever that means. It’s been nearly a year since Jon dragged him to meet her and was going to brood for a whole year if he didn’t. As it turns out they do managed to get on well. He knows that he should probably go home, but that is not really a place he wants to be. Everyone will be hovering over him and he’s not in the place to be polite.

He’s unhappy. __Depressed__ , the doctor suggested, to which he kindly ignores.

The doctor is definitely right but Robb wants to pretend it’s not true. He doesn’t want to think about how the career he had is tainted or how he was nearly killed. He doesn’t speak of the nightmares and how he barely sleeps at all while thinking about how all he wants to do is sleep.

No way is he going to mention how bloody alone he feels.

He’s slowly making sure he has everything he needs when his phone rings.

 _ _Theon__.

Robb doesn’t remember the last time he spoke to him but can only smile as he answers the phone.

“You look like shit.” Theon says in lieu of a greeting.

Robb rolls his eyes. “You can’t even see me.”

“I just know.”

Robb sits, very carefully, trying not to agitate the long scar in the middle of his chest, the one that ruins the wolf tattoo that runs on the side. He tries to hold back the groan but he doesn’t. “I look better than you.”

“Yeah, __Pretty Boy__.”

“I got your flowers. I don’t think you picked them out but they’re nice.” They’re definitely from Theon’s wife but Robb doesn’t mention that. Doesn’t mention her ever. Can’t even recall her name and it’s probably a good idea for everyone.

“I wrote the card.”

“Yeah, your handwriting still sucks.” Robb smiles, leaning, carefully, to pick up the card. He opens it once again just to see it. Pretty generic but nice.

“Hey, I spent time on that.” Theon does his best to sound offended. “Ungrateful.”

“I know. Thank you.”

The silence between them is heavy and long, before Theon finally breaks it. “Don’t get yourself killed, Stark.”

“I won’t.” He pauses, closing the card and putting it in his bag. “Why did you call?”

“Now and always, right?”

“Now and always.” Robb whispers right before the call ends.

Robb lets out a heavy sigh and throws his phone on top of his packed bags. He’s just ready to get out of there. It’s moments such as those that he feels like so much is out of his control and all he wants is control.

It’s the mid afternoon before he and Jon arrive at Dragonstone. It’s beautiful. Grand and taking up most of the island. It’s the only place he is granted true privacy without the prying eyes of everyone around him. The stairs are something he can do without and by the time he actually makes it up to one of the many empty guest rooms he is in all too much pain and sits on the edge of the bed.

He hovers over Myrcella’s name in his phone again, for what seems like the millionth time, before he simply locks his phone and lays down. The whole recovery thing is not easy and he wants to see Myrcella, talk to her, hell, he would settle for writing her something. But he feels like he shouldn’t.

Deep down he knows that he is giving himself punishment for everything. Even if it’s in the form of being a prick to Myrcella. That part he does not have any type of excuse for.

He takes a few painkillers in order to actually get through the rest of the evening without sitting there doing nothing. He’s only been at Dragonstone once prior and that was mostly Jon pulling him along at every turn to make sure he and Daenerys got along. Did not leave much time for exploring. It’s interesting.

A little heavy on the dragon lore for his taste, but he can admire the entire thing being built out of stone in such intricate shapes.

He gets lost at least twice before he actually manages to find the kitchen. The one thing he was looking for and all the exploration was something of a bonus for him.

“You’re supposed to be taking it easy.” Daenerys tells him gently.

“I am.” Robb says, rolling his eyes, as he walks in and grabs something to drink.

Daenerys remains skeptical. “You’re sweating.”

“It’s hot.” Robb isn’t going to let her be right and the heat is the only excuse he has. It’s not exactly wrong either. Dragonstone is far warmer than Winterfell.

“Whatever you say.”

Robb rolls his eyes. “Where’s Jon?”

“He’ll be back late tonight.”She supplies, leaning over the counter, eyes on her phone and for a moment, him.

“Mm.” Robb nods. “No queenly duties?”

“Not today.” She puts her phone down. “You need to change your dressing.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“Your mother would do them for you.”

“And you’re going to leave me to suffer?” He can’t help but smile. Ever since they met they’ve gone back and forth. They’re too alike sometimes and bounce off one another well. It also causes Jon to get the concerned brooding face and Robb likes to see how long it’ll take him to intervene as if he and Daenerys are actually on the edge of an argument.

“Yes.”

Robb pouts at her before taking an apple off the counter. “I’ll remember that.”

“You know I’m a __queen__.”

“I’ll remember that, _ _Your Majesty__.” He bows before her and everything to which she just laughs.

Robb exits the kitchen and walks down the long expanse of stairs outside, slowly, and he only aches somewhat by the time he’s down by the beach. It doesn’t quite remind him of home but the breeze from the sea during the sweltering summer is something he enjoys. Standing, staring, looking at the sky.

He wishes more than anything to run through the water but the stitches and staples that are holding him together would not do well. Not with the water itself, nor with the waves of it crashing on the beach. He sits out there until the sun is beginning to set and Daenerys is probably going to send a guard to look for him if he doesn’t return soon.

He slowly walks back inside and down the dark hallways, until he’s finding himself entering the room that is his. It’s quiet as he sits on the bed and he checks his phone. His mother checks on him near constantly and he always returns her. He does not want her to worry. Not when she has so many more children to worry about.

He always wants to be the last, even if he is the first.

Sleep does take him, eventually, after taking some painkillers, and by the time he wakes it is nearly noon. He aches from sleeping so long but doesn’t want to take the pain medication they gave him. Always worried about what a paper would report on him. He’s fine and doesn’t hurt all that much anyway.

He cleans himself up before he walks towards where the voices are. One is Jon’s and the other is definitely Daenerys’. He just cannot pin point the other. Not thinking much of it he walks into the room while checking his phone, sending his mother a quick text back that he is doing alright and he promises to call her later.

They are gathered in the room with a map of Westeros ingrained on the table, the light from the sun coming through the stone windows that have not been altered in thousands of years. The smell of the sea is strong and pleasant, drinking down the water he got for himself, as they all turn to look at him.

It’s only Myrcella that manages to grab his attention. He hasn’t seen her in recent years in person, but he has seen her in the papers, online, and occasionally in a moment when he caught the news. She is no longer the eight year old girl on his arm at a formal dinner. She’s far older, at least older than he remembers, and looks beautiful. Perhaps it is not the first thought he should have when it comes to her but is the one he settles on. Her eyes are bright green even as he’s still too far from her and her blonde hair is long and curled as it flows down the red of her dress.

She stands the moment she takes notice of him as she runs her hands over the fabric of her dress.

To keep from staring he turns to Jon and Daenerys, both of whom remain seated, and both of whom are looking between the two of them.

“Please sit, Princess.” He speaks as he walks over to the table, all too slowly, taking a seat. “I did not expect to see you here.”

“I thought I should see how you are doing.”

Robb nods and smiles. “Which one of you two did this?”

Jon and Daenerys look at one another.

“Your future wife should see you alive.” Is all Daenerys says and Jon shrugs in his direction.

“It is nice to see you, Myrcella.”

“You don’t have to say that if you don’t mean it, Robb.”

“I do.” He does, truly. Even if he is not the best at making that known. “Surprised.”

“My mother and father are on a trip. I snuck away.”

“At the request of my brother’s paramour.” If he wasn’t injured he is entirely too certain Daenerys would kick him under the table.

“A princess can hardly deny an invitation from a queen.”

“You could learn a thing from her.” Daenerys says, smirking.

“I’m glad you are up and about.” Myrcella speaks, saving Robb from having to reply. “You look…healthy.”

Robb doesn’t think that is the truth. “Want to go to for a walk?”

“Of course.”

Robb stands, slowly, letting out a breath. “Alone.” He only clarifies to be difficult. He lets out another breath before he walks out of the room to meet her in the hall, trying to manage the pain without actually taking anything for the pain.

“How is your recovery?” Myrcella asks once they fall in line with one another. Her hands are clasped in front of her as she glances at him.

“Slow but good.” He is taking it easy, walking probably too slow, but with her he doesn’t feel so…as if he has to put on a show. He is hurt and she can see right through that. So can Jon and Daenerys and yet, what she thinks is more important to him.

“My mother wishes to break our engagement.”

“And you?”

“I’ve never known anything else.” She replies softly. “He won’t allow it. He sees this match as the fate he never got with Lyanna.”

“That’s not quite an answer.” He points out.

“Perhaps you should not get yourself killed. What were you thinking?” Her tone turns into something in which she is clearly upset with him.

“I’m fine.”

“You can hardly walk, Robb.” She stops walking, her voice growing louder. “You wince, you breath too heavily, and now you’re on this remote island.”

“You sound worried.”

Myrcella rolls her eyes. “Of course I am.”

“You never replied to my letter.”

“I was fearful you would die.” Her voice drops to barely a whisper.. “And you nearly did.”

Robb grabs her hand, taking between both of his. “I’m here.”

Myrcella nods. “My father wants to us to wed within the year.”

“We could elope right now.” He isn’t __entirely__ joking. “There’s a chapel.”

Myrcella laughs. “After five minutes?”

“I give you ten.”

“Ten is good.” She is smiling properly then, not moving from her spot, still all too worried. “Promise me you won’t go back.”

“I promise.”

“And you’re not just saying that.”

Robb takes a step closer, making it so that there is little space between them. “I am officially nothing more than the Crown Prince. No doubt when I heal you will see me all over doing events and preparing to wed you.”

Myrcella nods, using her free hand to rest it on his cheek. “I almost lost you.”

“I’m sorry.” He means that. The letters they’ve shared have made it so he feels like he knows her so much and that everything is falling into place. He did almost ruin that and that is no one’s fault but his own. “I mean that.”

“I know.” Myrcella grips his hand so she is holding it, tugging at him, to move to the balcony where the sea can be sea below.

It’s peaceful and welcome.

* * *

 

Robb and Myrcella spend time down at the edge of the water. It’s quiet and calm, even as the storm clouds roll in. The breeze picks up but rain never falls. They chat about their families. Myrcella updates him on Joffrey and Tommen as Robb speaks of all his siblings. He tells her a great deal of his accident and she does her best to seem as if the entire thing is not horrifying her.

But there are moments when he captures too many moments of her. Just as she’s walking or as she lets the water get her. Lightly, only dampening the hem of her dress. Her long curls blow in the wind. Myrcella is no stranger to having her photograph taken, but it’s different there with Robb. He’s not someone she has spent much time in person with, and in truth, had been fairly nervous when Jon suggested she come to see him. There is something different about seeing when she was eight to seeing him now when she’s twenty.

Her own phone gets filled up with candids of her own, unable to keep herself from wanting to capture every last moment. It is difficult for her not to worry, however. She can his pain and exhaustion right along side his refusal to actually give into any of it.

“Let’s go inside.” She suggests, a soft smile, reaching for his hand in her own.

“If you want.”

“I want.” Myrcella has no problem in making it seem as if she is the one who needs a rest. They walk back to the castle quietly, enjoying the last moments of afternoon, before the evening storm begins to roll in. By the time they are inside the clouds are dark and angry, something that is common among the area, yet, nothing she has ever seen in person.

Out of the corner of her eye she does see Jon and Daenerys looking upon them, something she hides from Robb, yet, something that causes her to flush. After so long it seems things have changed so quickly. No longer are there plans for when they would see each other, as she is there with him now. Something she hides from her mother.

The marriage is going to go forward regardless of her mother’s wishes. What Robert wants Robert gets and if that is his only daughter being a queen then it is what he will get. She may have minded prior but her heart is so stuck on Robb she cannot help but feel a joy in the idea.

She just hopes he feels the same, but more importantly, that he is alright.

The stress in his features is clear and the way he aches is even more so. Two major surgeries after something going terribly wrong is a lot on anyone, must be heavy on the Crown Prince.

He opens the door to the bedroom he is staying in and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. She doesn’t wait for an invitation before she is seated next to him. She wants to touch him but ultimately keeps her hands in her lap as she looks at him.

“You should take something for the pain.”

“I’m fine.”

Myrcella turns her head to look at him. “You were wincing all the way here.”

“I was not.”

“You were.”

“Robb, you’re in pain.”

“I’m fine.”

Myrcella sits up on her knees, the fabric of her dress pooling all around here. “I know what they say of you.” She whispers, running her fingers gently through the red of his curls. “You served your country for the good of the nation, not to prove anything. Taking some pain killers does not make you weak.”

“I don’t think you’re qualified to say as much.”

“I have two years of letters.”

Robb doesn’t move to touch her, nor does he move away. “When do you leave?”

Myrcella lays back down on the bed, her hands resting on her stomach. “In the morning. Unless we want someone to come collect me.”

Robb moves to lay down next to her, carefully, glancing at her. “Come to Winterfell for my birthday. We’ll start there.”

“That’s three months away.” She tries not to sound as if she dislikes the idea. She only wants to see him sooner, far sooner.”

“Enough time for me to recover,” he explains, “and good timing for us to come out”

“In an official capacity.”

“In an official capacity, yes.”

Myrcella turns on her side so she can look at him. “Do I get a say?”

 “Of course.”

“Six weeks we go somewhere. Just us.” She whispers, lightly touching him, careful to not accidentally cause him more pain. “And your birthday.”

“You drive a hard bargain, princess.”

“As do you, my prince.”


	2. july, 2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really a proper excuse for why it took me ages to update this, but I did now~
> 
> Warnings for Joffrey being Joffrey.

Robb is home a few days past as he sits in front of the heart tree, deep in the Godswood of Winterfell, a combination of praying and thinking as he sits in his solitude. He stares down at the pond, holding his phone he endlessly turns in his hand, praying to the Gods in order to find the answers he seeks. Maybe it is stupid and maybe it will not work, but if nothing else sitting there has brought him some kind of peace. It will not last but it is not something he is going to let go of just yet.

The feeling that something is going to go wrong is constant. He knows it is because of his experiences and his near death, but that doesn’t make it any easier. He can tell himself all he wants that nothing is going to go wrong, nothing will be too much, and that he is not going to collapse but it does little to actually heal his mind. 

Other than his own troubles his thoughts mostly center on Myrcella. After seeing her for the first time in years it felt too short. They barely got to have a real conversation with him fresh out of the hospital and unable to think clearly. He was in too much pain and onto many painkillers in order to say all of the things he wanted to say to her. With everything that happens in the public spotlight he feels as if he is running out of time, time that can be just theirs.  

They talk on the phone nearly everyday, but there is something about actually speaking face to face with her that makes all of the difference. Even facetime only does so much. Usually Rickon is around, checking on him, so he doesn’t randomly drop dead. Though Robb suspects it’s more so he can spy. Not exactly the best place to have a conversation.

Still, it’s better than nothing.

“Son.” Ned states as he takes a seat on the rock next to Robb’s. “Your mother is worried.”

“Sorry, I’m just here.”

Ned nods. “We can extend your leave if you need.”

“No.” Robb shakes his head. He needs something to do and sitting there is not it. “I can’t hide forever. The public will hate me.”

“They understand.”

“Do they?” His question is sharp as he turns to glare at his father.

“You have always been well perceived.” He answers simply, not desiring to drag it out any further. “Robert and I discussed a wedding in November, if you and Myrcella are alright with that.”

“Okay.”

“I know you have never been thrilled with this we all need to do our parts.”

“I know.” Robb is silent for a few passing moments as he twirls his phone. He should tell him that he knows Myrcella more than her being a passing acquaintance, but he doesn’t. “I don’t hate it. Sometimes it feels like they’re waiting for me to mess up.”

“They are.” Ned doesn’t shy from the truth. “Do you know why your mother and I did not stop you?”

Robb shakes his head as he looks back at the heart tree.

“You needed the life experience. If we set you free to the wolves…” He trails off, letting out a sigh. “You are not like Sansa.”

“I don’t think it’s a good thing.” He frowns as he thinks of his sister. He loves her dearly but he cannot say they are the same. In some aspects, but sometimes it feels like Sansa could be another child from another family entirely. Not that he quite understands what his father is trying to imply and thinks he is better off not knowing.

“We love all of you for who you are, but you needed to learn things I could not teach you, nor could your mother.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Ned stands and puts his hand on Robb’s shoulder. “I was apprehensive at first, but I think Myrcella will match you well.”

He watches as his father walks away as he remains puzzled as to what he means. Doesn’t spend much time pondering on it, as he decides it doesn’t matter much at all. He’s always been somewhat cryptic and will remain that way. 

One day Robb will be King of the North and Riverlands. He is marrying into the family that holds the rest of Westeros, minus the crownlands belonging to Daenerys. It’s odd, to have their families so united, when the divisions themselves are for good reason. He does know he has no desire to actually see his future mother in law. Ever. The whispers he hears are enough.

Even royals cannot escape poor mother in laws.

By the time the evening comes he finds himself in White Harbor. It’s his first act back from his combined leave of military duty and medical leave. He hasn’t done anything in a good year, not alone, not so publicized. He’s fixed his auburn curls more than once so he looks somewhat decent in the pictures that will be everywhere soon enough. 

He smiles and waves as he gets out of the car, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. It will be fine. He hasn’t left the North so it gives him no real cause for concern, only anxiety that is with him every moment of every day now. As he walks in and the eyes fall on him more often than not he begin to feel worse. He swallows back anything that resembles the feeling of wishing to be ill in front of everyone as he tells himself over and over that it will be okay. Nothing bad is going to happen. He’ll be fine. 

It’s an event honoring the Manderly family and their continued support of the North, the bonds that brought them together years prior and continue to be that way. A strong ally to have and one that has proved to be good for both houses as the centuries pass them by. It’s relatively smooth as he stands in front of the crowd and gives the speech he did not prepare for. He never much liked writing things down. He rather likes to speak and hope it goes well. A habit that stresses his mother out more than it helps.

Luckily for him, he does not stumble over his words and instead just gets on with it before handing the special medal to Wyman Manderly. Wyman says a few words of his own before the evening becomes a special dinner where all of the pressure is off of him and he can make an attempt to enjoy himself. 

_ Attempt _ . 

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?” Wylla asks, whispering harshly into his ear, coming around behind him before she plops down in the chair next to him.

He stiffens while still doing his best to not make it seem as if he knows what in the bloody seven hells she is on about. “What are you talking about?”

“A little birdy told me about letters Queen Cersei is trying to stop being released from the media, but they are ready to release them the moment the is official confirmation that they are authentic.” She steals the drink in front of him, giving him a stare. “Between you and Princess Myrcella.”

“I have idea what you are talking about.” He swallows as he turns his gaze away from her, picking a piece of food off of his plate. 

“Robb.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t bullshit me.”

“How do you know this?”

“I know someone.”

“Who?” He turns back to her, expecting an answer.

“Met her through Margaery Tyrell.”

He rolls his eyes. “Is she still trying to be with Joffrey?”

“No, he left a bruise on her arm. That was the end of that.” Wylla downed the glass of champagne before setting the empty glass on the table. 

“Is your friend Loras Tyrell?”

“He’s gay  _ gay _ .”

“As opposed to?” 

She gives him a look as she doesn’t bother to answer his question. “I don’t reveal my sources.”

“You’re not a journalist.” Another roll of his eyes as he is greeted with another glass of champagne, one that is actually his.

“Mm.”

“I don’t want them released.” He tells her as he finally gives some confirmation they are true. Not that there's anything within the letters that will make him seem terrible. He’s not Theon.

“I can call a favor.”

“For?” Robb asks. 

“I don’t want anything.”

Robb doesn’t believe that for a second, instead giving her a pointed look of his own. 

“Put in a good word. You are the Crown Prince.”

That’s fair enough. Would do it even without the situation in front of him. “With who?”

“I’ll let you know.” 

Robb rolls his eyes but smiles. He and Wylla have always gotten along ever since they were kids and their fathers would spend quite a bit of time with one another. Though she has always been able to get along with just about anyone. Something he admires. There are plenty of people he can be polite to but would rather do exactly the opposite. 

“You know,” she settles more into her chair, “I never thought you would marry Myrcella.”

“We’re not engaged.” He says without even thinking. 

“ _ Yet _ .”

It’s not something he wants to talk about. “I never thought you would have green hair.”

“We like a christmas match.” She beams before letting out a laugh.

“Those pictures from when we were teens prove that.” He downs the champagne before he holds out his head. “Care to dance?” 

“Does anyone ever say no?”

“No.” It’s his turn to beam as he offers out his hand to her.

Wylla takes his hand as he leads her out to the side where there are a few other pairs dancing. It’s a rather quiet affair, one of prestige and honor over celebration. 

“I expect my invite to the wedding.”

Part of him wants to tell her that of course she’ll be invited to any wedding that it his own, but he doesn’t. “Who says we’re getting married?”

“King Robert doesn’t keep his mouth shut.”

Robb wrinkles his nose at that. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“What else do you know?”

“Nothing interesting.” She shrugs. “The King doesn’t keep his mouth shut but everyone else does.”

They make some more small talk as they dance through the next two songs. It’s nice. He hasn’t actually had much time to talk to anyone he usually does when he’s back in his royal shoes, doing his best to be what everyone wants him to be. It doesn’t hurt Wylla is actually funny and never been one to exactly stick to the rules. By the time they make their way back to the table their plates are cleared, leaving them with just a few glasses of champagne.

“Who are you dating?” He manages to ask after a moment. These are not things they talk about often but here they are, talking about them. 

“No one.”

“Not even your source?”

“It’s been fun.” She stands in an all too abrupt manner. “I have work to do.” 

Robb doesn’t care enough to push her to tell him. Likely doesn’t even know the person she is. Instead he focuses on mingling with the rest of the people there. He doesn’t want anyone to think he is slacking on his duties, but more importantly, he does like to engage with everyone. 

It’s rather dull, in truth. The glamour does not exist in the way it could have with others. Mostly people tell him that he looks good considering everything he’s been through. 

It’s good. Smooth. 

_ Successful _ .

* * *

Myrcella listens to her mother rant about how irresponsible she is. Cersei has a glass of wine in her hand, not the first of the day, and Joffrey is sitting in the room, snickering. Her father excused himself prior, not interesting in the conversation, and likely to find another source of entertainment for the night. She has seen a woman she hadn’t before walking around the keep lately. She doesn’t say anything about it.

Instead she sits there, hands in her lap, watches as her mother paces back and forth in the room. The third glass of wine is almost empty and that’s only since dinner has ended. 

“It’s not a sex tape.” Myrcella tries not to grow frustrated with her mother, she truly does, but the words come out and she can’t stop them. 

“Please tell me you are not having sex with that… _ boy _ .” Cersei stops her pacing, giving her a glare only a mother can, waiting on her answer.

“No.”

“Good.” She seems pleased with the answer, finishing off her wine, “perhaps we can still get you out of this.”

“I did with Trystane Martell.” Her eyes widen ever so slightly as the words come out of her mouth, but she does nothing to take them back. Instead she smiles, ever so slightly, ignoring the look Joffrey is giving her. She doesn’t care. It feels cruel. The way she wants to prove herself to be an adult capable of making her own decisions. It isn’t, that she knows. It’s not as if she is a baby who needs her hand held for everything. 

Cersei doesn’t reply. Instead she finds herself pouring more wine into her glass, filling far more than she had at any other time during the evening. 

“See, mother.” Joffrey beams as he stands, enjoying this too much, walking over to her as he leans forward, invading her personal space. “She’s a whore.”

Myrcella doesn’t move, not willing to let Joffrey think he has any upper hand over her. 

“Do not speak of her sister like that.” Cersei tells her eldest son, more good measure than anything else. 

He rolls his eyes, lingering on Myrcella for far too long. “ _ Women _ .”

Myrcella pretends not to be bothered by Joffrey being so close to her or even caring about these things. She doesn’t even let her face fall until he’s out of the room, shaking off the feeling that her brother’s near presence left on her. “I want to marry him, mother.” They are words that her mother doesn’t want to hear, but she speaks them anyway, looking at her with a softness she doesn’t often display with how often they shut her down. This future has been before since she could remember and getting to know him made it so she wants it, doesn’t want to be miserable, to suffer. The Starks are not how her mother puts it, nor how Joffrey and her grandfather do if Robb is a testament to the family as a whole. 

“You are my only daughter.”

Myrcella stands and moves over to her mother, grasping her hands in her own. “He is not like my father.”

“I hope not.” Cersei squeezes her hand. “I don’t want you to suffer.”

“I know.”

She takes the sweet moment for what it is - just a moment. There is likely something brewing inside the mind of her mother. Soon she’ll be thick as thieves with Joffrey. She doesn’t want to see those moments come. Instead she exits, walking through the corridor to her room, plopping down on the edge of her bed.

Soon it will no longer be hers and she’s ready to not have to deal with it all anymore. 

It’s entirely her family she does not enjoy being near. Except for Tommen, who is soon to be grown in his own right. She enjoys the people and the engagements she goes to, slowly she’s been doing more of her proper duties and finds them fun. Her mother has never much had the stomach for it, but ever since she was young she never enjoyed how isolating everything was. 

She wants to be out there, be free, to see the people, to see her friends, to even  _ make  _ friends in the first place. 

After a few moments of fixing her hair so her gold curls fall into place and she looks less the unsettled mess her mother and brother made her she grabs her phone and calls Robb.

“Don’t be mad.” She says before he even has a chance to get a greeting out, putting on her best ‘sorry’ face so he could focus on that and not on the news she has to tell him. 

“The letters?”

“They’re yours, mostly.” She’s glad he knows even if she wonders how or if he is going to be mad. “One I never sent.”

“I’m not mad.” Robb says, giving her a smile to reassure her, the blue Tully eyes staring at her with an intensity even through the camera of the phone. “At  _ you _ .” A small but important clarification. “Who got them?”

“Could be anyone who works here. Mother threatened everyone.”

Robb smiles. “Good.”

“Your tie was crooked.” She says, happy to change the subject. 

“Looking at pictures of me?” His smirk is impossible. 

“ _ Maybe _ .” She’s hardly going to admit it, even if she was. 

“They’re going to leak.” Robb tells her after a moment, bringing back the seriousness of the conversation. 

“I know.”

“Are you okay?”

“We’ll be married by the end of the year.” Is the only reply she tells him. That’s the news her father had in addition to the letters. He seemed happy, in truth. It’s her mother that did not react well, is still not reacting well, and will continue to not react well.

“How do you feel about that?”

“Good.” She smiles, properly, the thought of the future something exciting. “How do you feel?”

“Good.” He replies a smile all his own. “I always feel better talking to you.” 

Most of their communication was through letters and because of that it made her feel like she knew him so little. He was so far away in places she was never allowed to know about with letters few and far between because he was actually doing more. But when she gets to see him, listen to the accent come off of him, see the way his smile reaches those eyes that could make anyone melt she feels her heart swell in ways she didn’t know possible. “I’ll be there soon.” 

“Not soon enough.” 

* * *

“Your Royal Highness.” Patrek greets as Robb gets off of the plane. “I do not suppose you have seen the news.”

“What are you talking about?” There’s a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he already knows what he’s talking about. Robb didn’t expect for everything to happen so fast, but deep down he  _ knows _ . 

Patrek shifts for a moment before handing over his phone with the list of news stories, silently. 

Robb immediately takes the phone from his hand and looks, reading the headlines, keeping his face even. He knew this day would come, but the timing of it is...not what he wanted. 

_ EXPOSED ! SECRET RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN PRINCE ROBB AND PRINCESS MYRCELLA _

_ LOVE OR POLITICAL MATCH? PRINCESS MYRCELLA’S GRAB FOR POWER _

_ FUTURE KING FINDS HIS QUEEN. READ THEIR ROMANTIC LETTERS NOW _

One after another, article after article, picture after picture. Some are the letters he sent to her and the one she never returned.

“Who did this?”

“We don’t know. The King would like to see you immediately.”

Robb nods. “Thank you.” He hands back his phone before getting in the car.

Everyone knows of his return so it’s no surprise when he sees people and reporters alike as they drive through their normal route to Winterfell. He has not checked his own phone yet, not until he can filter through it without worry he’ll be shown scowling on the front page of the newspaper. He’s there anyway but doesn’t want to look like he’s upset about the events as they play out.

He is and he isn’t upset. 

He doesn’t mind that his relationship with Myrcella is now public. The day was always to come and given their high profile status they both know it was not going to be something that either of them were going to be able to do quietly. It’s the letters out there for everyone to read and the public to give their comments on. Surely, he sounds like a bloody idiot in most of them. 

He hopes he didn’t say anything too stupid that will live on. The option to reread them is there, to make sure none of them have been edited, but he doesn’t think he has the ability to do just that without cringing the entire time. That or wanting to bury himself deep in a hole and never return. Dramatic, yes, which is hardly his usually demeanor. It’s so rarely that something of his life becomes so public it calls for such a reaction that feels entirely not him.

As the car moves through the gates of Winterfell he sees his mother, knowing he’s in for a lecture from both his parents.

“Mother.”

“Robb.” She smiles and hugs him, a little too tight. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I wanted to know her.”

“Your father is in his study. We’ll have dinner afterwards.” She tells him, letting go out as she looks at her eldest. 

Robb kisses his mother on the cheek. “I missed you.”

She smiles at him, shuffling him along as she follows behind him as he walks inside. 

Robb walks slowly, a little too slowly, apprehension filling him, as he moves down a series of hallways until he is knocking on the door to his father’s study. It’s a polite knock, seconds later moving through the threshold, only to let him know he is there. 

There the King in the North sits, Ned Stark, looking at the papers and writing things down. Robb remembers being a young boy and remembering such an image. It’s a duty. He knows that.

“How was your flight?” Ned asks without even looking up from his work.

“Well.” Robb replies and a takes a seat opposite of him. 

“Oh, son.” He sighs before looking up. “I was worried you two would not get along.”

Robb smiles, glad he’s not in real trouble. Not that he has been much. “So was I.”

“I am glad you and Myrcella like one another.” He smiled, as much as he ever did. “They’ll be here for a visit in the next coming weeks.”

“Me too.”

“Come on. I have been late for too many dinners this week.”

* * *

Robb lies low after the news breaks. At first, he didn’t, which landed him with some questionable looking faces over some papers that look they are written by five year olds. He’s being generous. That and when he is out he does get asked about Myrcella and never knows what exactly he wants to say.

Nothing. 

He wants to say nothing at all. 

So he only goes to engagements he absolutely needs to and spends some time trying to recover. He’s mostly healed but there are definite mental scars that are left behind from everything. It’s difficult for him to admit, to anyone. He doesn’t. Instead he does his best to pull himself together. It’s questionable whether it’s actually working or not. 

The news finally manages to die down when Myrcella is due for a visit, her family coming up after her. 

He can hear the press behind the walls of Winterfell with their cameras before he actually sees Myrcella herself. He stands there, in line of sight, but still considerably removed as he clasped his hands in front of him. He doesn’t move as the security team opens the door before and she gets out.

It’s nearly impossible to hide his smile as he sees her. Last time he’d properly laid eyes on her he was in a horrid mood, plagued by pain, and worried about so much more. She aided him but did nothing to make it so he felt as if he could actually smile, be happy, enjoy it all. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She smiles, standing in front of him. “They can see us, I think.”

“Probably.”

He offers out his arm. “Let’s go inside.”

Myrcella takes his arm and they walk inside, down the passage until they are within. The only people around are the guards at the doors, where they usually remain..

“My mother is still furious.” She says after a moment, moving to stand in front of him.

Robb smiles. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Mm.” Myrcella smiles. “She thinks you’re using me.”

“I would never.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to show me around?” She asks as she looks around them. “You’re not a very good host, Prince Robb.”

“Forgive me, Princess.” 

Robb takes her hand in his own as he shows her around. Mostly they move through the parts of the castle that are actually occupied by people. There are plenty of passages where no one does, which he seems to save for later, for when he wants to escape with her as his family easily gets to be too much. The public spaces will be done later, as well, when he is certain no one is around so it can be just the two of them. That’s all he really wants. 

Before they can finish Robb sees his parents on the opposite side of the room, watching, lying in wait for them.

“Your grace.” Myrcella greets, curtseying in front of Ned, before turning to Catelyn. 

“Princess.” They both say in unison, smiles on both of their faces.

“I hope my son is not tiring you out.” Catelyn says, giving Robb a look. An unreadable one. 

“Not at all. He is a gracious host.” Myrcella holds onto his hand a little tighter, not feeling as if she is under as much watch like she is with her own mother. 

“Perhaps you should settle in.” Catelyn tells her “I’ll show you.”

Robb tries his best to seem as if it is not the last thing he desires. They are adults who will marry whether they desire to or not, thankfully they do, but who is he to go against his mother? He looks at his father who without speaking tells him how much he is not going to go against her either. 

Instead he lets go of Myrcella’s hand as she walks with Catelyn, only catching their voices instead of the words they are speaking. 

He excuses himself for his father, who has work he wishes to focus upon anyway, and changes into something far more casual. He’d been rather dressed up because of a meeting he attended that morning. There is no excuse for why he lingers around Winterfell as much as he does later. He makes an attempt to wait to see Myrcella without his mother or father keeping their eye on him, or having to listen to his siblings with their own opinions. He isn’t sure what they think he will be up to or why they would even care. Hardly as if he’s the image of purity. Even so he does make an attempt to not cause his mother to worry over him more than she has been lately.

Eventually he does manage to catch a glimpse of the so out of place blonde hair. 

_ Myrcella _ .

There’s nothing subtle about the look upon his face or the way he comes up to her. “I was going to go into Wintertown, if you want to join me.”

Myrcella smiles brightly. “Were you waiting just to ask me?”

“No.” Though his lie is not exactly easy to hide and when he smiles she gets this knowing look on her features.

“Lead the way.”

Without saying anything he leads her outside into the front, smiling as Grey Wind comes running. A whine slips from him, wagging his tail, looking between them both. He’s eager to meet Myrcella. That much is clear. He’s nearly bouncing as he waits to greet her, another whine coming from him, on the edge of barking. 

“One of the infamous Stark wolves.” Myrcella states with a slight shake in her voice. 

“Hold out your hand.”

Myrcella does as she is told and holds her hand out. Grey Wind gets up and sniffs it, before giving it a lick, and cozying up to her. He nuzzles against her as he lets out another whine, one that is happier, rather than sad, before he looks up at her. He pants heavily, just as she begins to pet him.

“I think he likes you.” Robb smiles, letting out a soft laugh.

“The seal of approval.” She smiles. “Come on, you can be our guide.”

Grey Wind doesn’t seem amused but ends up trotting in front of them as they walk to the gates of the castle. It’s no surprise to either of them when there are still a few reporters left out there, as if they were waiting to get one shot of them. It’s fair. He smiles at her before taking her hand in his own, intertwining their fingers.

They wave as they’ve been waving since they were toddlers to the people outside, letting Grey Wind move in front of them.

“You look nice.”

A blush crept on her cheeks as she smiles softly. “Thank you. So do you.”

The royal security assigned to them both keep a decent pace behind them, with Grey Wind in front of them. It doesn’t stop the reporters from following them and he’s used to it. Instead they walk through the town outside of the castle. He grew up reading tales of how small it was, only for it to grow progressively bigger. It’s nice. He only hopes he can expand it more. 

“It’s different.” She speaks as she looks over at him. “Winterfell, Wintertown, the North. My mother and Joffrey never have nice things to say about it up here.”

“And what is it you think?”

“I like it.” She says. “I liked it when I was a small girl.”

“It’s not quite Dragonstone.

“No.” She lets out a breath. “What are we doing?” The question only asked when he’s tugging her down a path.

He doesn’t answer as he brings them down a path that is a bit more rugged than anything else they’ve been walking down. It’s a route he takes often and gives them some semblance of privacy.

“Prince Robb.” One of the young boys smiles before running over. “Princess Myrcella.” The young boy instantly has his eyes widen as he stands there. “Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” she dismisses as she looks out at him.

“Who is winning?” Robb asks as he lets go of Myrcella’s hand.

“We are.”

“Are not.” One of the boys on the opposite team shouts, nearly kicking the football right to them. 

Instead the ball rolls on by them, Robb taking the moment to kick it back out to them, a smile on Myrcella’s face when he turns back to look at her. 

Robb knows he’s being watched and he puts his best effort to make it so Myrcella finds herself impressed by him. Not that he thinks he needs to but there is an urge that makes him want to impress her. Of course, it ends with the kids beating him, even when they are going fairly easy on him. 

He gives each of the kids a coin, smiling, ruffling their hair. 

“She’s watching you.” One of them says.

“Aye, she is and you lot couldn’t let me win.”

“You never win. We cannot be liars.”

Robb laughs before he walks off, letting the boys play amongst themselves, and winding up in front of Myrcella. 

“What was that?” She asks once he’s in front of her. 

“You could have played.” He tells her as he runs through his hands through his hair. He’s warm now, an uncomfortable feeling for a wolf. 

“I’ve never played.” She states, a soft frown as she looks over at the boys, before back to Robb.

“Next time.”

Myrcella ponders that as she turns her head to stare at him. 

“What?”

“You’re nothing like Joffrey.” She smiles, the words coming out as a mere whisper. 

“Aye, that made my day.”

There are a few moments where she only stares at him. He doesn’t know what she is thinking and finds it hard to resist asking. He does. Mostly because she leans up and kisses him, out of nowhere, her hands moving around his neck, wrapping around him. 

Robb doesn’t expect it. He, of course, held such a strong desire to kiss her for quite a while. Never did the moment seem right. He pulls her closer to him, not caring they are in front of everyone, only stopping because he has to. 

“What was that for?”

“For being a true prince.”

* * *

For two weeks Myrcella mostly spends time getting to know the family, at least the ones that are there. Jon spends most of his time at Dragonstone with Daenerys. Sansa has been spending time in Highgarden with the Tyrells. Arya is in Dorne. It leaves Bran and Rickon, along with the king and queen.

It’s nice, however. 

She is excited to see Tommen, though. She misses her younger brother dearly. They arrive and she hugs him more than she does any of the rest. Of course, she is ever the polite princess to her parents and Joffrey. 

The first night they're there a dinner is hosted. It consists mostly of Robert and Ned catching up while everyone else simply amuses themselves. Joffrey comes too close to her a few times too many and causes her to drink more wine than she would have otherwise. She is seated next to Robb which brings her great comfort and yet, there she is, trying to keep her eye on Joffrey so he cannot come near her. 

“Dance with me.” Myrcella requests after she’s had too much to drink.

“Lush.” Robb whispers in her ear, the smell of alcohol coming off his breath. 

“Your lush.” She murmurs, standing, and nearly yanking him to the dance floor. 

In recent weeks since her arrival they have grown closer to one another. They’re both happy. They sneak through the halls of Winterfell to find places to makeout where it’s just them. They walk through the Godswood and through to the glass gardens. They go out into Wintertown and they’ve even managed to sneak a few nights that she could only describe as date nights. 

It’s a taste of what is to come in the near future. 

She’s close to Robb, leaning on him, smiling as he holds onto her. The desire burns through her but she knows better than to do anything unsavory in front of all of those people. She is still ever the proper princess and does not want to be anything but. Not when she has the eyes of everyone on her, including her mother who watches her from where she is seated in the front of the room.

“Tell me, dear sister,” Joffrey starts, coming up to them, a smirk on his face, “does he take you like a wolf? He is a savage.” The words are like venom coming from his mouth. 

Myrcella stands a little taller, but still unsteady. She doesn’t let go of Robb, only holds onto him tighter, feeling like he wants to crawl out of her own skin at him being so near. She’s never been one to back down from Joffrey, nor has she ever been one to show fear. The worst is he makes her wish she could bathe herself in bleach. 

“Excuse me?” Robb says before Myrcella even gets a chance to say anything. 

“You actually seem to like him.” Joffrey moves closer, staring at the both of them. “I don’t know why.” 

“I like him because he’s the total opposite of you.” 

That only seems to anger him further. “Does he take you like a wolf?” A question repeated, something on the edge of his tongue.

“Enough.” Robb says, moving closer.

Joffrey smirks, knowing he’s getting under their skin. “That sister of yours. Pity she’s not here. I would love to….”

Robb moves forward but Myrcella holds him back. The last thing she wants is for them to get into a fight. She can feel how upset Robb is, how much he is attempting to pull away from her. 

“Tell me,” Joffrey is enjoying himself too much, “did you mean what you said in those letters? What a riveting read.” 

“It was you.” Robb realizes, a not so happy look on his face.

Myrcella thinks she should have known exactly how the letters go to be public. Before she can register anything happening Robb is no longer standing next to her. Instead he’s moved forward to punch Joffrey in the face. She watches as her brother falls to the ground, eyes widening, looking to Robb. 

Joffrey screams and causes the whole crowd to look at them. “I’ll have your head for that.”

“Don’t get up.” Robb says, standing over him. “I will beat you into this floor.” 

“Robb, come on.” Myrcella tugs his hand, desperate to get out of there before anything gets worse.

“Bloody hell, boy.” Robert’s voice booms. “Get up.”

“Robert, do something.” Cersei demands, looking between her son and Robb, a scowl on her face. “Myrcella, come here.”

“No.” She denies as her mother reaches out for her, only holding onto Robb’s arm.

“Boys being boys, aye.” Robert looks between he and Ned. “A little rivalry never hurt anyone. Come on. Up. Back to the party.”

Cersei storms off with Joffrey as she tends to his bleeding face, ignoring everyone behind her. 

“Robb.” Ned states, in a tone Myrcella can only think is disappointment. “What happened?”

“Your Grace,” Myrcella interjects, “he was just protecting me. Sometimes Joffrey can be…”

Ned’s brows furrow before he understands. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll talk later.” Ned tells them before walking off to where Catelyn is watching with a disapproval of her own.

“Yes, father.”

The tension is thick as it feels like the eyes of everyone are on them as Ned and Robert walk off. Myrcella still holding onto his hand, grip all too tight. He grabs a bottle of wine off the table in the back before he exits through the side door, tugging her along with him. They will most definitely notice they are missing but with Cersei and Joffrey gone, too, it should not make much of a difference.

If it does, she doesn’t care.

She doesn’t say anything as she allows Robb to move through the home he knows so well. They exit the hall and walk through the grounds. It’s dark outside except for the full moon in the sky. The wolves are howling. It’s calm but eerie all in one. She wants to say something, to check on Robb, to make sure he is okay but with the way he moves she doesn’t. Instead she keeps up the brutal pace until they are at the first keep. 

“I thought no one stayed here.” She says as they walk towards the door. 

“It’s not done yet.” Robb replies softly as he opens the door, only letting go of her hand so she can move through the door first. “Between my service and injury…”

“Will we be living here?”

“I don’t know.” He answers as he kicks the door shut. He takes her up the spiral staircase until they are upon the upper floor. He opens the door to the room before she walks in behind him. 

Myrcella closes the door behind her as Robb takes a sip from the bottle of wine. He offers it to her, to which she takes a drink, eyes on him. She’s never truly seen him like this. Unsure and unsteady? Yes. Happy? Yes. She’s never seen him upset with adrenaline running through his veins with a look that makes her ashamed for how it makes her feel. 

The bottle ends up on one of the tables before her back is against the wooden door. His mouth is on hers and she’s never felt anything better. Far different from all of the times they’ve kissed before. Now she knows what she wants from him, tugging at his belt, wanting him so desperately. 

“We shouldn’t.” Robb says but makes no move to stop her, only kisses her with a new fire. 

“No, we shouldn’t.” She replies, looking up at him. She knows better and tugs him towards the bed, lying down and pulling him onto it. “Not like this.” 

They are words that bring them both down to the reality of it all. She wants him, her body feeling a burning desire for him, like she will explode if she doesn’t get him. But with how they’ve done everything she doesn’t want to think of their first time being because he punched her brother. She wants to remember it and think of a happy memory. It’s silly to put so much worry into something like that given she hadn’t bothered before. She just realizes how dangerously close she is to falling in love with Robb Stark in the way she won’t be able to be with anyone else.

Instead she moves to the bed, lying on it, gesturing for him to follow. He does, not bothering to fix his disheveled look, and lying on his side so he can face her. 

“They’ll come looking for us.” She tells him as studies his face. The effects of far too much wine and fury are on his features, making him look a bit older than he is, and making him look far more exhausted. He wears it well. She likes it. 

“Probably not until the morning.” Robb replies, reaching out for her hand and taking it in his own. 

“Good.” She manages as she barely can do anything but lie there, needing to be so close to him. “I want to be here with you.”

“So do I.” He lets out a breath. “Is it true? What you told my father about Joffrey?”

“We’re here now.” Is all she replies. Her older brother has always been difficult and has traumatized her more than anyone else could. She doesn’t want to talk about it though. Not with him. Not with anyone. She wants to live her life as it is now. The less time she spends around Joffrey the better. She thinks it is unlikely that she will even spend much time around him anymore after Robb punched him in the face. 

Her mother will be furious and want to do away with the whole wedding. Her father will never allow for that to happen. She’s never been particularly close with him but she’s glad they at least can agree on this. Even if they both wish it for different reasons. 

“I’ll kill him if he touches you.”

She gives his hand a squeeze. “I know.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://laurelsalexis.tumblr.com/)


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